Words Unspoken
by Kira Dattei
Summary: Freedom is but a word until given meaning, as Nasir will discover now that he stands among the rebellion. Canon-compliant gap-filler with a touch of telepathy. Nagron!
1. Chapter 1: A Place in This World

**Story:** Words Unspoken  
**Story Summary:** Nasir has lived most of his life in slavery. Now that freedom has been granted, meaning must be found in his new life. He has survived until this point, now he must live. Mostly a gap-filler, and is canon-compliant except for the addition of a little telepathic power.  
**Chapter:** 1/10 (subject to change)  
**Word Count:** 8,059  
**Chapter Summary:** Spartacus has destroyed Tiberius' home and speaks of freedom and choice. The body slave makes a choice that will change the path of his life.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these amazing characters.**  
A/N:** So I got obsessed with Spartacus a few months ago and have lost count of how many times I have watched it by now. This little idea of giving Nasir some sort of ability randomly jumped into my head one day and just took off once I started writing. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I'm loving writing.  
**Beta:** AkinaSky

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Chapter 1: A Place in This World

In the moment shackle and collar had been placed upon him, Tiberius had recognized that to live as Roman slave was to survive. Having been born in the harsher climes of Assyria, survival was a thing familiar to him and even at the young age he had been when brought to this new land he held no doubt that he would adapt to this life. That first year of slavery had been discovering what he had to sacrifice for his survival and so he cast off many things to live.

His first sacrifice had been his language, the tongue understood by none around him and so he was made to learn new words quickly.

The next thing to be given was memory of his homeland, of the traditions and beliefs he had so deeply known. He had to learn of countless gods and what they meant to those who placed faith in them. He held no belief in these deities, yet he witnessed the different methods of using them against others.

The last thing he had been made to sacrifice, and he despaired over this loss, was his name. While he had never uttered his identity to any within these lands – his refusal to answer when asked was accepted with a shrug of indifference and it was his first master who had called him Tiberius, claiming that the beauty of his flowing hair deserved more attention than the rest of his inadequate stature – it was still difficult to part with even the thought of the name he had been given at birth. It had been his and now he had no use for such a thing if he truly intended to live.

In his hesitation to give up the one thing he held ownership of in his identity, Tiberius became more than the word the Romans called him. The word became the shield that the Syrian could hide his heart and soul behind while his mind became the guide in all his actions. Tiberius soon became an identity on its own, one of cold nonchalance to all around him. While he maintained fair treatment of other slaves – the one part of his nature that he could not completely conceal – he made no attempt to form bond of any manner with those who shared his fate.

There was only one who came into his life after years of slavery and few changes of master and would not accept that he truly did not desire friendship with any: Chadara. She was a favored slave to bed and she accepted this position and the protection it provided her. When the Syrian had been sold to their master, lustful fire in the Roman's eyes as he took in the smooth dark skin of the smaller youth was noticed and it was understood that only question of time remained in when he would be bedded. Chadara had possibly seen such looks and had made attempt to ensure her own position by forming friendship with him so he would take action to protect her as well when his position rose. Her first efforts had been ignored easily enough, and when she made no progress after many weeks of making attempt with no success in even gaining words from him, her reasons seemed to alter. It was only after another week of her simply speaking to him absently while they completed tasks within the villa that he finally began giving response and a truer friendship was built. Two years passed in service to Dominus, who had indeed began favoring his body when Chadara or other slaves were not his preference for the night, Tiberius had served him greatly in running the villa where others proved incompetent. When the Syrian reached the age of manhood in Roman eyes, he was elevated to position of body slave and ear was pierced with wooden stud to display status as branding was not preference to Dominus.

Taking Roman words and name had been important in his survival, yet they were not what earned him position of prominence with Dominus. Truth lay in skill he could not reveal to any, a thing that had only been known to his family long lost: the ability to know the intentions and unspoken words of those around him. It was a thing he had made attempt to banish from occurring yet had never succeeded. When he came to Rome, it had been his means to learn the language as he learned method of understanding what was desired of him and then making connection to the words broken to gain such actions. Once language was learned, he had tried again to strike words not of his mind from being heard, but success was never found until he came to Dominus. The man made intention known soon after purchasing Tiberius that he held no desire to part with him and it was then the Syrian understood his path: Dominus was now key to survival. He saw how value to Dominus meant protection – Chadara's favor was proof of such – and so gift became focused on knowing every need and desire of Dominus. Once skill was harnessed to purpose, it was brought to command and Tiberius heard no words or intentions of any but Dominus.

As months passed serving desire of Dominus alone, Tiberius was trained in duties that beyond that of a mere house slave – he was helped to understand numbers, finances, inventory, position of Roman names within society, and responsibilities of all within the villa – which his quick mind absorbed all instruction and his elevation of position was granted.

Recognizing that other slaves might hold dark feelings for one so young to be granted coveted position, the Syrian made effort to keep all from the fate of the mines and assigned tasks that were well suited to each person. Desire to assist others was recognized and respect was earned. Efforts were of great success, only seeing one to the mines since the Syrian had become body slave.

Memory of that day haunted Tiberius and he was forever determined to never fail again in protecting those he stood responsible for.

Such desires seemed fated for failure as Spartacus and his rebels laid waste to villa. Tiberius and Chadara were spared sight of the attack as she provided pleasure for Dominus and he remained nearby to be of use if called upon. When the commotion was heard and order was given to retrieve Dominus' robes, Tiberius was distracted by a thing he had never felt from the man who had kept him alive for many years now: fear. The Roman was uncertain of his life and that feeling birthed the same uncertainty in the Syrian even as he moved to follow command. Chadara moved to replace her own clothing as room was invaded by men towering over Nasir in height and muscle. Hands reached out to him and clamped around his arm to push him from the room with Chadara following behind to steady him before they were given command to go to the villa entrance to hear instruction from Spartacus. The name caused further panic in Dominus and Tiberius struggled to maintain control of his own reaction.

When they came upon the entrance, blood staining the walls around the gathered people – ones unknown stood throughout the villa and fellow slaves were gathered in a small clutch in center of courtyard – Tiberius was separated from Dominus and lost all that gave him meaning in the world he had adapted to. He did feel relief at realizing that all house slaves he had worked to protect were all yet living and he moved to stand among them. He allowed his small stature to shield him from gaze of most unfamiliar men and women surrounding him as he finally became aware of a voice speaking words of freedom and choice. Dominus' voice shouting command to all slaves aided in bringing Tiberius' mind to task and control lost from confusion was regained.

Control did not remain though as Dominus was pulled from courtyard and Tiberius could do naught but listen to the Roman's increasing panic and need for help. The constant calling for help brought pain to the Syrian's head and he touched fingers to his head in an attempt to relieve sting until many minutes passed and his mind went silent.

His hand fell back to his side as he realized his mind had never been without words of others within it and years of training had left his own mind absent unbidden thoughts. The silence was suffocating and unwelcome and brought about an unavoidable understanding: his means for survival was now dead.

He no longer knew what he had to do in order to survive.

"Your mind wanders," Chadars's whispered words called his attention and his eyes focused on the woman before him. While his fellow house slaves were still mostly gathered in the same area, they had spread out to sit and reflect on what had just happened to their home. Tiberius had not moved and was now even further separated from those he knew except for Chadara who remained at his side. She looked toward the villa and followed the retreating form of the one Tiberius guessed to be Spartacus. The man stood with such authority that all responded to, but Tiberius could see how they looked upon the man with respect instead of the fear and submission he was accustomed to seeing. "The Bringer of Rain releases us from life as slave." His friend seemed to not be speaking for sake of gaining a response, but was merely giving words to thoughts.

That he did give response caused her to startle and look to him in shock, "He releases us from all we have," he spoke quietly, his voice reflecting his unsettled mind which caused greater concern in Chadara as she had never heard such a tone from him in the many years she had known him. It also revealed to one already well versed in conversing with him his discontent in the night's events.

"Then new position must be found before opportunity passes." Chadara walked away, her intentions to find one among the gladiators to offer protection clear to Tiberius. The option did not appeal to the Syrian – hands of others upon his skin had never been favored, only tolerated by Romans for survival – and so he dismissed it as means of adapting to new situation.

Hearing crashes and calls of excitement from within villa, he assumed that the gladiators were going through their supplies to celebrate their victory this night. Also assuming that the strong fighters would claim the comfort of the villa to take rest this night, he moved to gather blankets from stores for his fellow house slaves – freed men – to use that night. He took the opportunity to observe those around him and what they did, utilizing his many years of servitude to notice mannerisms that separated the gladiators from other slaves. The sheer volume of activity surrounding him exceeded all he had ever experienced and it was only through years of training that allowed him to focus enough to take in names and positions of those within the rebellion.

He had yet to reveal his position as body slave to any within the rebellion and that allowed him opportunity to move about as another newly freed slave. He had already requested that Chadara to allow him to remain unknown, to which she agree without question. Tiberius had noted how liberated slaves turned to one called Mira, who appeared to have mind well attuned to keeping track of supplies and assigning tasks. She had already given task to Chadara that would have normally been something Tiberius would be better assigned to, but his friend had nodded her acceptance without delay and had ensured he remained absent from Mira's attention as he desired.

It seemed that he could not escape attention off all though, as he was approached while he was assisting familiar faces in finding place to sleep by a gladiator he had identified as Tychos. The man looked over the group just freed and called out to Tiberius and three of the other men in healthier shape to follow behind him as he led them toward the villa. He indicated for them to step upon wooden planks bordering the building and they were lined up, reminding Tiberius of times where slaves were put on display for purchase. He was positioned at one end and he noticed Spartacus approach with another of the gladiators that Tiberius had seen always near rebel leader, though he did not know the man's name.

Not knowing what was expected of him, he held his posture rigid and fixed his gaze straight ahead in position of one waiting instruction. The other men beside him assumed similar position, obviously as unsure of what to do as he was. He could hear discussion between the two approaching gladiators and noted how the unknown man was obviously in disagreement with Spartacus. That he was voicing such opinion so openly with rebel leader was a thing Tiberius could not understand. His face was made a blank mask as he allowed his mind to pull from surroundings to work through confusion.

Did Spartacus not stand as master of this rebellion that had struck fear into Capua and its surrounding land? It was his name that was spoken in shaking voice by Romans after destruction of Batiatus' ludus. Even in the short time since Tiberius had first gazed upon the man, he had commanded the people around him. What did it mean that those he commanded spoke against him so brazenly? Was this something to do with the freedom he spoke of? It was a simple word, yet Spartacus said it with such emotion behind it that response from deep within the Syrian was provoked.

A sudden pull at his neck caused Tiberius to come off balance, a quick shift in his weight keeping him from falling into Spartacus who now stood before him. Bringing his full attention to his surroundings, Tiberius realized that Spartacus now held his collar within his hands, having pulled the worn leather from neck. Realization evoked the thought that rebellion had taken yet another familiar thing from him, and Tiberius lifted his hand from his side to brush against the sensitive skin that was now exposed without cover of slave collar. Such sensitivity was unfamiliar to the body slave and his discontent grew ever stronger to this man who sought to lay claim to him under guise of granting freedom.

"Join your brothers and take up just cause," Spartacus' words reached the Syrian and he knew what was being commanded of him. Spartacus confirmed his thoughts with his next words, "We will see the Romans bleed for taking us as dogs, to be yanked by the leash at their command." He then called to two nearby gladiators and ordered them to place weapons in hand of the four standing before him. Tiberius noticed the displeasure of the gladiator standing behind Spartacus as gladius was held out to him to take.

As he looked down to the weapon being given to him, an unexpected notion rose within him: refuse command.

When the grip of the gladius was pressed into the skin of his stomach, his hand rose to take it on reflex and he held the unfamiliar thing in his hand. This was not a thing that should be touched by slave hands, he realized. Even his Syrian mind cried out that had he not been taken from his land, he was never born to be a warrior as his size and quick mind dictated. Yet this man, Spartacus, was placing weapon into such hands with orders to raise opposition against Rome without consideration that doing so meant death.

The Syrian was a survivor, though, and so his mind was already working to search out the path that would allow him to continue living. To accept blade and battle would bring about his death as he knew not how to fight. To refuse would also bring about his death, either for refusing command given or by Roman hands for being slave to Dominus who had been struck down. Other skills he had gained through his life would not hold value with others such as Mira already within rebellion with such talent. Finally, the talent he had never told another about had remained silent since Dominus fell and would therefore not benefit him in gaining value with other masters.

So there was no path before him that didn't end in death, Tiberius concluded. The realization did not cause him despair as he expected, but instead he was filled with a somber acceptance that not all things could be survived and he had simply found his limits. However, the survivor in him retreated enough for him to decide that if death was all that stood before him, he would not waste away under command of Spartacus. He would embrace the one thought he could call his own in many years: he would refuse to raise sword for rebellion. He would defy them and in doing so force Spartacus to distrust allowing him to live. He would strike out and see Spartacus subject him to Roman law.

This was his freedom: choosing his death.

He would embrace it just as rebel leader had asked of him.

* * *

Agron could not understand this fucking little man, regardless of attempt made to do so. When Mira had first called on him the previous night with news that a freed slave had made attempt on Spartacus' life, Agron had not expected to be faced with the dark-skinned figure he now watched. He had noticed the slave when he had been presented as one among newly freed slaves able to bear sword, the man standing closest to him and his height and stature bringing question to mind as to why he was considered able to take up sword. He was well groomed, his ebony hair flowing down over his dark-skinned shoulders, some pulled back in a twist at the back of his head and the cloth that covered him at the hips was of better quality than those standing beside him. Such difference indicated favor from the Dominus, which Agron suspected was attributed to the boy's obvious youth. He had probably seen no more than twenty years and to see one so young already so affected by Rome was cause for anger to rise.

Now as he looked upon the boy, each arm held by gladiator who towered above him, he was finding it difficult to match the slave he had seen earlier and the little man standing before him now with such fire in eyes and fight in body against those holding him. His dark eyes burned with hatred as he silently watched Spartacus, Crixus, and Agron discussing his fate in response to his assault.

A small amount of respect rose in Agron as the little man responded to being struck by Crixus by looking right into the Gaul's eyes with unrestrained hatred for spilling his blood.

It was the next morning when they were to begin training the newly freed slaves that Agron, still uncertain of Spartacus' decision toward the dark-skinned man, decided to better understand his brother's choice. He approached Spartacus as the man watched the group talking quietly as they prepared to train and stood beside him, his eyes seeking out the little man and finding him speaking to another of the newly freed slaves, a woman with long flaxen hair who appeared upset at what he was telling her.

"I question intent to train one who has already taken sword against cause," Agron spoke quietly.

Spartacus' eyes turned to him briefly before laying on the boy in discussion. "I hold doubt he believed he would succeed in taking my life. When attempt failed, he told me I should kill him for his actions." Spartacus paused as he turned back to face Agron, who waited for his brother to continue. "He does not realize he had already stepped from beneath control of Rome. Others hold sword because we gave them task, yet he denied rule of another master and made first choice."

Agron sneered at the revelation. "His choice was to die."

"Not all men hold strength enough to choose the path to their death. Even we fight so that our lives may continue toward greater end. I would see what other choices we may invoke in this one." He paused again as he turned once more toward the little man, who now stood alone, his eyes keenly observing all activity around him. "I would also know how one so young gained position he held as body slave."

That revelation brought Agron to pause. His belief that the boy had been merely favored by his master was an acknowledgement that he held beauty and his smaller size would have appealed to many, yet to be body slave meant he held intellect. His mind also turned to their search for Naevia and what she had been made to endure because of her position and he wondered if Spartacus was also searching for such pains inflicted upon this one.

Now Spartacus trained with the boy and it was proving difficult task for Agron to keep his eyes from the pair. Before training had begun and instruction was being given to all, Agron found it difficult to believe the blank expression and cold eyes he saw now belonged to the same person as the wild dog he had faced the previous night. While being addressed, the boy's posture remained rigid though shoulders dropped in manner that made him appear even smaller and his eyes remained fixed straight ahead.

It was the gaze and position of submission, Agron realized. As gladiator, he had never been instructed to lower eyes in such manner except to Dominus as his purpose was to be likened to a god of battle, yet he had witnessed similar posture from Mira and Naevia while still enslaved. This boy seemed to embrace the vacant gaze in its entirety though and in doing so kept all at a distance. Even those from the same villa kept from approaching him for more than brief exchange of words.

Yet when he was called to begin training and Spartacus took position across from him, the little man gave evidence that such distant appearance held no meaning to actual state of mind. He had obviously absorbed all instruction given and responded to attack with constant adjustment to accuracy. As training progressed and Spartacus continued to give instruction to the boy, Agron noticed increasing moments of the fire he had witnessed the previous night emerge.

There was a particular moment of frustration from the boy when strike was evaded and followed by the sting of Spartacus' blade across his back that caught Agron's attention and he looked over to witness the resentful gaze that had been directed at Crixus the previous night now being set upon Spartacus himself, though words the Thracian spoke next caused such expression to fade and Agron witnessed the intelligence of the boy take hold of his actions. Spartacus continued instruction through much of the day, the boy never calling for rest or water. Correction to form was given often – as the boy's own words claimed his complete inexperience with holding weapon – yet the same advice was never required more than once and by training's end he gripped sword with more confidence.

The boy did indeed learn quickly and it was easier to believe that one of such young age became body slave.

However, once blade was removed from hand and breathing was calmed, fire was suppressed and blank gaze once again stared upon them. Spartacus passed Agron closely, indicating him to follow so that next move for rebellion could be discussed. As they sought out Crixus, Spartacus spoke his new opinion of the boy, "He fights war of his own. Slave mind battles to remain in control while fire of heart burns to be released from shackle."

It was such observation that brought in Agron the urge to learn something of this boy by his own words and it was that urge he answered later that night with drink in hand.

He had not expected to see the boy's expression alive with anger aimed toward Spartacus and held hope that it meant that something was breaking down such strong defenses. "You press fortune, glaring so at the Slayer of Theokoles," Agron spoke to announce his approach, the habit deeply ingrained as a gladiator who did not handle any coming upon back.

The response was quick and cold, "His victory but proving even giants fall." It was a harsh observation to make, yet it spoke of a truth not many within rebellion seemed able to consider. Even Agron found the thought of Spartacus falling in battle amusing and he did not make attempt to keep the chuckle from sounding. After all, it had been many weeks since anything had truly brought him amusement and he felt no desire to keep it from showing. He reached out with one hand, presenting the cup he held to the little man, and dark eyes looked between his face and the offering quickly before reaching up and taking it. His mind indeed worked swiftly and Agron realized how careful in his approach he would have to be or opportunity would be lost.

He moved forward another step forward and dropped down to a crouch beside the other man, making attempt to minimize the height difference between them. "What name do you go by, little man," There was a flash of annoyance in the boy's eyes as he turned to face Agron, but control was regained swiftly as he seemed to search for reason behind the gladiator asking for such. "So I may properly mourn your passing." He was aware that none within the rebellion had asked for the boy's name and hoped that gesture of doing so would give the former slave reason to relax his guard.

"I am called Tiberius," the response came quickly enough, yet Agron found himself disappointed that answer given was that of a Roman name.

"Tiberius? You are far too dark to have such a fair Roman name." He played the fool, as he knew how common it was for slaves to be given names by their masters to better suit their position, but he followed opportunity to learn more of this young man.

"I am more Roman than Syrian." This new revelation was even more disappointing to Agron as his mind turned to Ashur and all that fucking Syrian had done to bring pain and death to the ludus. It made him even less certain of Spartacus' choice to train the boy to fight.

Certain that his deep hatred of Ashur was now reflected in his gaze, he turned away from Tiberius and looked to where Spartacus still stood with his eyes upon the pair. Agron noted the satisfaction in his friend's eyes and that gave him encouragement to continue the conversation. He was, however, unsure of how to proceed with what he had just learned and held no expectation that the other would give him more without question being voiced. Feeling that his reaction should be explained, he spoke, "There was a Syrian at our ludus. A treacherous fuck if ever there breathed." At the edge of his sight, he saw anger once again cross the expression of this Syrian as his jaw tightened briefly before control was once again recovered. "You had family there?" He watched as eyes became distant, yet in a different manner than he had witnessed to this point in the young man and a new emotion to dark eyes appeared: sadness.

"I only recall a brother."

Agron nodded as his thoughts turned to Duro and the loss he had yet learned to bear. Trying to keep his grief from taking control, he pushed forward with remembering that his intention was to make some manner of connection with the little man and now it was presented as he had not anticipated. Yet he admitted that he had never experienced a thing as strong as loss of blood kin and he yearned to hear of another having to endure such a thing. "I too had a brother."

Dark eyes turned to him once again at the revelation. "No longer?" the question was voiced softly with solemn inflection. The emotion displayed caused small amount of hope for this conversation bearing results despite the pain he was now trying to push through.

Agron shook his head, the act as much to answer as to shake memory from taking hold. "He was struck down by the Romans."

Tiberius' eyes darted downward quickly, and it seemed as if the reminder of the Romans also reminded the former slave of his own position and all emotion was quickly wiped from sight and when dark eyes met Agron's again, there was no hint that there had been anything but a slave. "When you turned sword against them?"

Agron's temper – always easy to rise and even more so since the death of his brother – came to the surface as he turned to look upon the fucking Syrian. Something held him back from striking out as he desired to for the insult of Duro's sacrifice and he managed to consider his response, hoping to salvage some of the progress he had thought to have made. He was even able to smile, though it was without humor and pained him to do so. "As you shall one day, if you hold any fucking sense."

His control would only last for so long though, so he stood without waiting to see the response to his final words and walked away.

* * *

Deceiving the guards was of no concern to Tiberius. He had realized that morning when blade had once again been placed in hand and instruction of its use had begun that his desires still did not matter to any. Command was given and he would follow, as he had done for most of his life. He settled into familiar pattern as the day continued and when Spartacus called him and gave order to not give guards reason to suspect presence of rebels he nodded his understanding and prepared reason for Dominus' absence. Tiberius was keenly aware of Crixus' disapproval of him being given such task, the man's distrust of him still strong. The German – whose name Tiberius had learned to be Agron – did not reveal his thoughts on the matter, simply nodding and moving to take defensible position in stores. As for Spartacus himself, Tiberius could not determine if task was appointed to him to test his loyalty or for more practical reason.

Regardless of reason, he was to make attempt to keep rebels from engaging guards if not necessary and he had every intent to see task to successful completion. It was not to be so, as missing collar was noticed just as guard turned to depart. Realizing his error immediately, Tiberius' mind searched for explanation to cover his mistake but was unable to come to any solution except to speak words that would bring rebels out of hiding to strike down the threat. Knowing there was no way for rebels to realize his actions had not been in betrayal, he expected first blood drawn to be his own. He was unprepared for hand to latch onto his shoulder and pull him away from the guard and toward villa so he had no chance to catch his balance and fell backward as battle erupted around him.

Tiberius recovered position enough to support weight on the balls of his feet and hands, crouched low in attempt to remain from notice while allowing him to move quickly should the need arise. His eyes swept over the fight taking place – one he had caused – before coming to rest on the ground before him.

A gladius from fallen guard lay within reach.

Spartacus' words from previous night came to mind: he was presented choice of submitting to Rome or bearing arms against them. His first response to such choice had been a reflection of his belief that one such as him held no more value in this new world. He had cowered in the face of choice in attempt to cling to the familiar, dictated by Dominus. A man now gone to the afterlife and his voice forever silent in Tiberius' mind…

A silence that had yet to be filled by another, leaving only the thoughts that had been suppressed through the years: those of a Syrian who had done all to preserve self behind mask of Roman name. Mask that was no longer needed if Spartacus and those who followed him were to be believed.

Eyes rose from the beckon of the blade to take in the fight once again, coming to rest on the aggressive form of Agron. The gladiator had been the only one – with exception of Chadara long ago – who would not accept his silence. He had been the only one to ask his name. He had made attempt to learn more of the body slave than any others that had come to the villa…ever.

Punch landing upon Agron's face and bringing blood from his mouth brought Tiberius' attention to full focus as he realized that such strike was enough to knock Agron off balance and guard gained opportunity to end his life. Looking beyond the German, Tiberius realized that another target was revealed: Spartacus' back was turned as he disposed of his own opponent. The guard – Tiberius recognized him as the one he had spoken to – moved to strike fatal blow.

Was Tiberius worth keeping alive? Did his life truly matter now that Dominus was dead? Did he deserve to draw breath while one who had spared him fell?

Hands moved to purpose, decision made from beyond Tiberius' control. Legs pushed him to action and gripping sword as Spartacus had instructed, he thrust blade through back of Roman guard before strike against rebel leader could land. Body fell to death, revealing Spartacus' shocked expression as he looked between the fallen guard and the former body slave. The Syrian's face remained blank as he considered what to do next.

One side of Spartacus' mouth turned upward and an expression of pride – a look unfamiliar to the Syrian – came over his gaze. Before response could form, hand closed tightly around the Syrian's throat and the sensitivity of the skin caused panic to rise. His back was forced against pillar of the villa and dark eyes looked to face Crixus' rage.

The Syrian struggled to regain control of his panic as Crixus argued with Spartacus over the purpose of his actions and yet another choice was presented: allow Crixus to take his life as he had desired the night before or reveal truth that would shore commitment to freedom.

Choice was made as quickly as it had been presented: "His eyes fell to my neck. He saw the absence of my collar. If I had not invited him in, he would have returned with more men." Had that happened, the rebellion would have fallen and the Syrian did not desire for that to happen, even if it was only now clear that his feeling were so.

Crixus' grip on his neck loosened at his words then released him, relief flooding the Syrian as the threat – as well as the undesired touch – passed. He had never found satisfaction at touch upon him and would never again allow such a thing. His eyes burned with his displeasure as he locked gaze with the Gaul, who had stepped away yet seemed baffled at such expression from one so recently absent emotion.

Spartacus approached and reached out to gain his attention, but dark eyes turned to him before contact was made and the Syrian moved his arm away to further ensure touch did not land. "You did well, Tiberius," he complimented many different actions in those few words, but the Syrian only heard Roman name.

Tiberius had been born of the Syrian's desire to survive and had taken form beneath the rule of his masters. He had lived to serve desires of men who held no concern for his fate past how it gave them benefit. They held no thought to the man behind name inflicted upon him. Name had become the Syrian's identity, yet true purpose was that of a shield of one no longer in need of protection.

It was the one protected who had chosen death the previous night, who could now come forward and reclaim life, allowing Tiberius to pass from this world with the Roman master he had dedicated all to.

"Nasir," the name held no familiarity, having not been spoken or deeply considered for countless years, yet the Syrian could not avoid speaking it in the accent of language he had turned from. Spartacus looked back to him in confusion, but the Syrian focused past the man to lock gaze with Agron – the one who had reached out to him and reminded him that Tiberius had not been the only one to protect him. There had been one who had given life upon distant lands to keep the Syrian alive many years ago. "My brother called me Nasir." Agron remained silent yet nodded in acceptance of what the Syrian was offering: a gesture of friendship.

He could not yet claim the name to be his – Nasir had only just been given life again and the Syrian did not know what form of a man would take shape – but he could not deny anticipation beating along with his heart for the first time since collar had taken hold upon his life.

* * *

The villa had fallen to silence once Roman bodies had been stripped and disposed of. The day had been long and eventful for many – especially the newly freed slaves who were unaccustomed to such activity – and rest had been the only desire upon mind. Even a great number of the gladiators took to bed to prepare for the next day, where they were to depart for the next villa in search of missing woman, Naevia.

The Syrian former body slave was tired as well, yet mind could not find peace enough to take to sleep. Once many had settled within the villa, he had moved to the entry where he had conversed with the guard he had struck down and found his thoughts churning in question of what he was to do now. While he had taken life of the guard quickly and easily enough, he was not certain he was capable of such a thing again or in different circumstances. Was he truly best used as warrior when his mind had been so strongly honed to use in other matters? His mind had also remained quiet of unspoken words and while he held confidence in the strength of his awareness and observation, he had come to rely on what he alone heard and would struggle for some time to adapt to action without such aid.

The silence within mind was unsettling alone, as it was a thing that had been with him since birth. Such gift had been of great assistance to him in proving worth to Dominus, yet now that his position was unknown he was abandoned by the one thing he had always claimed as his own.

Thoughts brought a sigh of frustration as he made attempt to calm racing mind: Nasir was proving to be a confused man with a lack of control which paled in comparison to one who had earned position of body slave at the age of fifteen. Perhaps Tiberius had been discarded too swiftly and should remain as shield until Nasir had opportunity to take shape in such dangerous life.

"Do you take guard of us so soon, little man?" a familiar voice called out to him from within the villa. Steps approached him and his body tensed slightly as the warmth of Agron's body settled in beside him. It was from habit that he straightened his back slightly and his hands clasped together in front of him now that another's eyes were upon him.

"Sleep would not come," he answered simply. "What of you?"

Agron leaned back slightly, bracing his weight on his hands resting behind him. The Syrian noticed that he had cleansed all blood from fight from his body, leaving his tanned skin clean. Nasir took opportunity to take in the details of the German and he found himself in admiration of the man's appearance. His body was solidly built, shoulders broad and strong and towering over Nasir even while seated. His hair was roughly cut short and piercing green eyes scanned their surroundings regularly to ensure safety. It was in his eyes that Nasir saw the pain he had spoken of with his brother's death and it became obvious that the man struggled with living while kin had fallen.

Beyond the pain was a myriad of emotion, the man was apparently an expressive individual not accustomed to restraining his actions. The contrast to Nasir's withdrawn nature was interesting to the Syrian and he wondered what they could possibly build this new friendship upon with such difference between them.

"Painful memories come to me in sleep. Once upon me, it is difficult to remove from fucking mind."

Hearing the pain and frustration in Agron's voice brought regret to Nasir's mind as he recalled how he had responded to learning of the gladiator's loss. "Apologies for words spoken against memory of brother," the words were spoken before he could consider why it was of such sudden importance to make amends with Agron. The German seemed to have not expected such a response either as he simply stared back at the smaller man for a few moments. When response was made, it was the spread of a grin across his face, the expression bringing such life to the man's demeanor.

"Posture and folded hands implied regret of actions against the fucking Romans, yet you speak of guilt for harsh words broken to a stranger. You are certainly not the man one expects, Nasir." It was as strange to hear another speak the name as it had been for him to speak it, yet the Syrian was satisfied all the same. To hear name given to him by loving family instead of commanding master helped his struggling mind to calm and such satisfaction brought confidence in his decision to lay Tiberius to rest to be the correct choice.

"Pain from words may yet remain while Roman lays dead. Apology to him would be wasted effort," Nasir replied, his lips lifting slightly in response to Agron's amusement, which had erupted into a laugh at Nasir's words. The man's open emotions were difficult to ignore, though he was certain he did not desire to keep from embracing humor as he never had before. He became aware of Agron's attention on him increase but the man did not give response and Nasir felt that further explanation may be needed. "I understand now what your brother gave his life for and would not have memory shattered by words absent concern."

Agron continued his observation of the Syrian, though it was unclear what he was looking for. Uncertainty brought out yet another habit and Nasir's expression fell into a blank stare. "How do you manage such a thing?" the gladiator questioned mere seconds later, his tone somewhat bewildered.

"What do you speak of?" the Syrian's tone was as blank as his expression, betraying nothing of his emotions until he held better understanding of what Agron found so curious.

"Eyes as dull as the ground we stand upon and voice so empty of emotion words may have been spoken by the dead." The manner of the description disturbed Nasir. "I have never before encountered another who keeps such guard raised while among allies."

Dark eyes turned to Agron and gazes locked briefly, only for Nasir to quickly turn again toward the villa entrance. "Tiberius called none his ally," Nasir revealed quietly. He could feel Agron's confusion at his words but the gladiator again remained silent, possibly in attempt to give the Syrian opportunity to reveal more without being questioned. "Life lived under Roman name was one of survival. Such a thing is easier accomplished if attention is not distracted by unnecessary attachment."

"You consider bonds with others to be unnecessary?" Agron requested clarity.

"Tiberius believed it to be so. I stand uncertain."

"Your words hold less sense with each passing moment."

Nasir considered dismissing the conversation at Agron's lack of understanding, yet he still felt the urge to hold bond with this man and so continued explanation of how he had survived to this day. "You carry shield made of steel and wield it with greatest accuracy to stave off harm. Shield I carry is one of my own creation, given form in Tiberius. Protection provided was defense of Syrian mind and heart by taking all harm inflicted upon flesh." Nasir glanced back to Agron once again as the man shifted his position to straighten posture. His expression was drawn and jaw was clenched in obvious struggle to suppress angry reaction, though Nasir did not understand what had caused such a response.

"You made choice to discard such protection for freedom. What shall guard you now?" It was now Nasir who responded in anger. Tiberius only survived and existed as he had because of foundation of skills possessed and learned by Nasir. The Syrian was not one without fucking strength and would not be treated so. "I would not see you fall before new shield is found." Anger faded as Nasir was again uncertain of what Agron meant. The man was proving difficult to hold conversation with. "I would see fire in eyes burn all who oppose you. Yet path to such strength is long and I would lend aid."

Nasir hesitated before giving in to his curiosity toward Agron's desire. "I heard words broken to Spartacus. You hold belief that house slaves would not be of value with sword in hand."

Agron raised his hand and touched the side of Nasir's neck where skin was yet discolored and sensitive from years of collar pressing into flesh. Feeling the initial displeasure at being touched, Nasir started to pull away but managed to halt the action. Such contact seemed to come naturally to Agron – and many of the gladiators – and the malice in such action when taken by Roman was absent.

"Perhaps you may prove me wrong, little man." The hand withdrew and lowered to rest in Agron's lap as the two fell to silence for many moments.

The silence gave Nasir opportunity to consider what had just been offered to him. Agron wanted to see the Syrian continue to train with weapon. He desired for him to fight back against Rome by harnessing what strength in him had emerged when he had made attempt on Spartacus. And he was willing to act in Nasir's defense if needed. Agron chose to offer these things to him and Nasir would not deny the man such action as long as more than the Syrian was willing to give was not desired.

Relaxing his rigid posture, Nasir's hands touched the ground behind him and he leaned his weight back – similar to how Agron had been positioned earlier – allowing his spine to curve in relaxation. His gaze rose to look upon the sky and he breathed deeply. "To speak name given to me at birth stands as the first time since coming to this land and you are the first to call me such. I admit it does not yet seem to be my own." Agron was watching him closely now, his green eyes soft with many emotions. "I would hear it again until time comes when I may claim the name as my own and know of whom I have given introduction."

A wide smile spread across Agron's face at the Syrian's words. "And I shall be there to give such a man proper fucking greeting."

Nasir's face relaxed into a small smile.

* * *

And there is chapter 1 to cover the events of Vengeance Episode 2, one of my favorite episodes of the show as it introduced a very dynamic character in Nasir who is always interesting to watch and try to decipher.

Please review and know that I accept all constructive criticism and questions. One cool thing about canon-compliant is there is some relief of spoilers, but I will still answer any questions spoiler - but not teaser - free.

Thank you for reading and see you next chapter!

**Kira Dattei**


	2. Chapter 2: The Greater Good part 1

**Story:** Words Unspoken  
**Story Summary:** Nasir has lived most of his life in slavery. Now that freedom has been granted, meaning must be found in his new life. He has survived until this point, now he must live. Mostly a gap-filler, and is canon-compliant except for the addition of a little telepathic power.  
**Chapter:** 2/10 (subject to change)  
**Word Count:** 8,510  
**Chapter Summary:** Nasir continues to struggle against Tiberius as friendships are formed and tested.  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own these amazing characters.**  
A/N:** First of all, thank you for returning. Events matching with episode three has been split into two chapters for length, which will be apparent when you see where I ended this one. Hope you enjoy!  
**Beta:** AkinaSky

**Chapter 2: The Greater Good pt. 1**

Two weeks had passed since Nasir embraced cause of rebellion and freedom, the new life holding many changes for him to make adjustment for. Three more villas had been taken in search of news of Naevia and their numbers grew at steady pace.

Their latest camp was an abandoned villa they found early one day and were working to cleanse enough to settle into for the next day before setting off again to the next target. As he did every night new accommodations were secured, the Syrian sought out a secluded corner away from all others in which to take rest. It was not distrust that gave him cause to seek out solitude, but continued silence of mind was desired and time removed from company of others aided him.

He held certainty that others felt suspicion toward his reasoning but none approached him to break words on the subject. Spartacus and Mira's eyes had followed him at the previous camp and he held expectation of Agron voicing question towards his solitude at any time during one of many conversations he held with the man.

Nasir had to give acknowledgement that those three stood as most belligerent in seeing him find new bonds within this world of strangers. Mira sought him out often to assist her in maintaining supplies – his mind remembered numbers at better accuracy than hers from more years at doing so for a Dominus of prominence. He, in return, gave instruction to better methods of taking inventory when written ledger – as she was accustomed to – was not available to assist in task. Spartacus maintained regular training with Nasir, usually taking many hours each morning to drill techniques, then would pair another gladiator with him to repeat lesson in practice for many more hours while allowing the Thracian to lead their people.

As for Agron, the German sought him out at nearly every meal – only missing such when Spartacus called his attention for sake of being in prominent position within rebellion – and shared food and conversation. Nasir had been uncomfortable – and somewhat suspicious – of such attention at first because he did not understand the purpose behind action. When he was finally able to form words to question Agron, the man had laughed and told him all that was required of him was company. If such was not desired, all that was required for it to end was to break words asking such.

…Such an easy task in thought, giving voice to desire. Yet the Syrian was finding practice of this to hold many obstacles within self to overcome.

Agron, ever aware of Nasir, seemed to have realized such difficulty within the little man as the next day he began directly questioning the Syrian in manner that required response of opinion or desire. Questions were easy enough to find answer for, yet Nasir realized Agron's purpose to be in showing the importance of having thoughts that were owned instead of passed on. The action was soon repeated by Mira and Spartacus and with such combined effort of different sources built the idea quickly within Nasir that no choice was unimportant as long as it stood as his own.

Finally finding a corner far enough removed that no other rebel had yet to settle there, Nasir set his bedroll down on the floor and spread it out. It was still early in the day and he could hear the increase of activity echo through the villa. He had intended to take some rest while no other tasks were required of him, yet it seemed none would be found with such great amount of movement nearby. Years as body slave made him easy to rise from slumber, but he also found his mind plagued of late. Memories deeply buried and ignored as Tiberius had risen and he was now forced to accept the things done to him while in service to Rome. Nights of celebration were the most difficult to bear as he would be made to remember parties too numerous to count where he had been subjected to lust of Romans. His position of body slave only protected him until benefit was to be had for his Dominus.

Tiberius had never held illusion that Dominus had found value in his appearance and he had memories to prove such a thing.

…It seemed that dark thoughts were already taking hold of mind and he had not even fell to sleep and Nasir felt frustration build within him. Perhaps he should seek out Chadara and allow the woman to give distraction as she had become skilled at in their years of knowing each other. No other knew just how much their Dominus had used his body slave and she understood how he was differently affected because of his dislike of touch upon him.

Approaching footsteps made Nasir tense – his thoughts setting nerve on edge – but he relaxed quickly when Mira came into view and laid eyes upon him with a smile. She continued to approach until she stood where his bedroll ended and moved to sit there with back upon wall. "Midday meal is nearly prepared. You should be near to ensure gladiators do not eat all and leave you hungry," Mira began conversation easily enough, though this was the first time she had sought him out without specific task being given.

Nasir had not intended to take meal – his smaller size and years as slave left him with less appetite than most and a skipped meal would not be noticed – as supplies were beginning to deplete with greater numbers among them. "Let those who take up arms enjoy meal," he responded smoothly. Mira watched him carefully, seeming to search for hidden meaning behind words, a thing Nasir noticed she was skilled at.

Nodding her acceptance of his choice, Mira continued, "Then I shall take opportunity to break words in privacy difficult to find within camp." Her eyes moved to take in their surroundings quickly before returning to him with a hint of amusement now within them. "Though you seem to possess hidden talent in finding such a thing."

"Mind finds clarity in silence," the statement held layers of truth that Mira was sure to have noticed but chose not to question.

"And I have intruded upon such a moment. Apologies," her weight shifted to stand, but stopped as a thing unknown to the Syrian seemed to occur to her and she looked to him in expectation. Nasir realized immediately that she was awaiting him to give voice of desire for her to remain or leave.

"You may remain. Solitude may not be of aid at present." Nasir felt memories of pain linger in his thoughts and he suspected shadow would take hold once again if left alone.

Mira nodded and relaxed into the wall behind her again, her eyes observing him carefully. Silence remained between the two for many moments before Mira spoke. "I stood in service to the House of Batiatus for many years. I was asked to do much I did not care to, yet in being one of many house slaves I believe I was spared much that was asked of single body slave. Naevia suffered much in the secrets she was made to keep for our Domina." Nasir could not bear to keep his eyes locked with Mira's and lowered his gaze to the bedroll beneath him. "What you must have been asked to do by your Dominus in your life for your eyes to remain so trained to lower."

Mira's hand reached out for him, intent on lifting his face and gaze in friendly gesture, but he saw movement before contact was made and he pulled away enough to convey his desire to not be touched so. Her hand ceased to approach him, but there was hesitation in her to pull away. Nasir's eyes turned back to her and his gaze was hardened in communicating that he was certain in his desire not to be touched, no matter the good intention she held behind attempt. When she saw the stubborn set of his expression, she lowered her hand and the Syrian watched as some measure of her confidence faltered at such obvious refusal of the connection she had offered.

His gaze remained strong as he spoke, "My Dominus is gone from this world and his desires shall never again be forced upon me." Her loss of confidence appeared to continue to affect Mira as she was uncertain as to how to respond to such passionate words. Such reaction confused Nasir as he had quickly become known to all within the rebellion to be a fierce man when needed. She had even been encouraging him to show this aspect of his personality with greater regularity.

Mira appeared to remember as much as her expression changed and her posture relaxed further against the wall.

"I would hold pity for any man that made attempt to do such a thing again, yet I find myself unable to extend such emotion toward any Roman," she spoke with a slight grin. Such expression faded quickly and she turned to him with an emotion he was not certain of how to handle: guilt. "Apology was given not for intrusion alone, but for questioning the purpose to your search for solitude. Many within the camp have suffered for secrets, and though you have been among us for many days now, you yet remain a mystery. So many only know you for attempting to rob Spartacus of his life and do not believe you yet desire a place amongst us."

Nasir fought the desire to lower his gaze again at being focused upon so. "Being unknown to those around me is a thing I am familiar with. Bonds are difficult to accept when life is not your own."

Mira was certain to understand his meaning. "Yet now life is yours and you are free to accept the friendships being offered to you. Chadara need not stand as your only confidant." Nasir knew Chadara often broke words with Mira and suspected that his friend had been questioned concerning him. He also held certainty that she would not reveal anything of him unless he had given permission to do so; such was the trust between them. "Know that I hold no concern over how you choose to spend your days among us. You are a free man."

Mira gave one last smile and moved to stand when Nasir spoke again, his voice somber and absent his previous fire. "I remember arrangements being made for Naevia to be brought to the villa," his words were quiet and distant and brought Mira's eyes to him in shock. "I did not lay eyes upon her, but I was present when my Dominus received messenger from Batiatus giving offer of gift in exchange for his support in rising in office. I did not know that gift sent was a woman until I heard Crixus questioning another Roman many days past." It had in truth only been just before they had discovered this villa that he had learned of Naevia, for not many beside those close to Crixus knew the true purpose of the path they travelled.

Nasir's stomach was churning now, both at the fact that he had aided his Dominus in the torture of the woman Crixus searched for so desperately and the sorrowful look Mira now gazed upon him with. It was obvious she realized that he placed blame upon himself for following command and how it had affected a woman he had not known existed until recently.

"You have not broken words of this with any?" Mira asked with hesitation. Nasir was surprised at the question, for Crixus' reaction to such revelation would have echoed through all of Rome. The Gaul's great dislike of the Syrian would have only strengthened his anger.

"I have not. I was not told where my Dominus sent her once finished and so held no knowledge to be of aid to Crixus. I did not want to cause aching heart more grief." Mira nodded in response, though continued to observe Nasir carefully. Nasir took advantage of the silence to make attempt to bring his raging emotions back within his control.

The woman continued to observe him and sighed deeply once he turned back to her, his eyes absent the turmoil he had just experienced. "How many secrets does your slave mask conceal?"

"As many as were required of me."

About to respond, Mira was interrupted by the call of Nasir's name by Agron as he turned corner and approached. She looked back to the Syrian and noticed how any remaining errant emotions were brought under control, and any shadows of dark thoughts were now gone. She looked to Agron and a smile spread across her face, gaining suspicion of both Agron and Nasir.

"You find fucking amusement with me?" Agron accused, though the anger was not genuine.

"I am merely relieved that your presence provides such balm where it is so greatly needed." Nasir met Agron's green eyes and shook his head slightly so as to encourage the German to dismiss his desire to further question the woman. After all, Nasir had accepted the bond that was developing between the two of them and for another to recognize it as well was not a thing to raise argument over.

Accepting Nasir's request to dismiss Mira's words, Agron moved to sit on the bedroll beside the Syrian, placing his body close enough to the smaller man that their arms and legs made slight contact upon movement. He handed over a small bundle of dried fruits to the Syrian, who looked between the offering and Agron's face. "You did not partake in the morning meal. We had adequate supplies and you have no weight to spare in skipping meals." Agron finished with a wide grin to oppose the frown Nasir was looking upon him with.

"I hold no choice in how I live?" Nasir challenged and Mira's grin returned at how easily Nasir spoke against Agron telling him what to do.

"You led all to believe Nasir had difficulty voicing opposition. It appears he has learned how," Mira spoke her growing amusement.

Agron's smile only grew at both former slaves' words. "Choice is always yours, yet I would encourage correct ones be made in regards to your health. Consider that your body is working harder now to bear weapon and strength must be nourished."

Nasir clung to his retaliation for a short moment longer before turning away and lowering his eyes. "Stomach churns at dark thoughts," he admitted quietly, his previous sadness again rising to the surface. It was apparent to the other two with him how deeply he was affected by guilt over knowing how his master had been among many to cause Naevia great harm.

Agron reacted smoothly and reached out his hand to grip Nasir's chin and coaxed dark eyes to rise with gentle pressure. "Then keep it until mind finds more pleasing thoughts to focus upon." Giving another wide grin, Agron moved his hand from the Syrian's chin to grasp his forearm and moved to stand while pulling the smaller man to his feet after him. "Come, I would see the measure of your training before we move against the slaver cart Donar sighted upon road."

Nasir's lips lifted slightly in a small smile as Agron pulled him away, anxious to test his skills against the gladiator who had to this point only observed his training the past few days.

* * *

Nasir's eyes darted between Agron's bright green eyes and his hands. He stood before him holding a gladius in one hand and a knife in the other, offering both to the former body slave. The two stared at each other silently for another brief moment before Agron simply pushed the weapons into smaller hands. Grasping the hilts of both weapons reflexively, Nasir felt the weight – a feeling of increasing familiarity – and how both fit his grip, shifting the knife slightly so he held it correctly.

Agron was amused by Nasir's hesitation and guessed his confusion lay in that he had up until now been given sword and shield to train with.

"Shield is only to be used as a training tool for you until skill and strength increase. These are weapons you are to carry at all times. I have asked Chadara to fashion sheath for you, which shall be prepared when we take leave," Agron explained his reasoning.

Nasir nodded his understanding and acceptance and slid the knife into the belt around his hips, ensuring that its position would not affect his movement. As he raised the gladius to a ready position, he could not help but feel the exposure of his body without the shield to protect him. "You now have an empty hand to aid you in battle. Do not hesitate in striking or drawing knife if opening is presented. I have seen the speed you are capable of and such skill will be to your benefit when facing an opponent of greater strength." Nasir noticed the amused grin and anticipated the teasing words before they were even spoken. "Which should count for all you raise sword against, little man."

Despite anticipating the barb, Nasir felt his temper rise though did nothing to calm himself as he swung for the gladiator. Agron stepped aside from the strike and drew the gladius secured at his hip in a single smooth motion as Nasir stepped into his strike to balance his action. Such a step allowed him to flow directly into another strike and the clash of steel echoed through the square they had designated for training.

The Syrian was becoming accustomed to the act of fighting. His mind focused completely on the task of striking a true blow on his opponent while not being struck in return. Each session of training required less thought as his body began to remember the motions of wielding a weapon. The more his body remembered, the more his mind was freed to take in his surroundings. He could be more aware of others training and observing and those who simply moved about them completing various tasks.

Watching the angle of Agron's shoulders carefully, he stepped to the right and twisted his torso slightly to allow the swinging blade to pass by him, then brought his own blade to it to knock it further away and off balance the large man. He shifted the angle of his grip and brought the grip of his gladius toward Agron's head. Seeing Nasir's intent, Agron quickly ducked down under the swing and Nasir had to take another step forward to keep from falling forward with the momentum of his attack. He turned to face the German again quickly, knowing the man would take advantage of his weak position if given opportunity.

_Fucking Syrian…_

The words echoed clearly through his mind as though they were yelled directly into ear by hateful voice. Nasir was caught off-guard at such intensity that he stumbled in his movement and fell to his knees. His head immediately began to pound and he brought his left hand to press fingers into his temple in attempt to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes. When that was not sufficient, he dropped the sword from his other hand and covered his eyes, which eased the pain enough that he could focus on identifying the source of the words. He looked to the entry of the villa and saw Crixus staring at him, his expression mostly blank. Yet Nasir – as a skilled body slave – was well adapted to recognizing negative emotions: Crixus' eyes displayed a deep dislike for him.

"Nasir?" Agron's voice was confused and concerned as he kneeled down in front of the Syrian.

His attention returned to the man he had been sparring with, Nasir realized how abrupt his reaction to hearing unspoken words once again had been. He could not recall the last time he had heard any other's thoughts and desires other than his Dominus'. The years that had passed since he had gained control over his talent had caused him to forget so much about it. He had failed to remember that lack of control allowed thoughts from all around him to enter his mind so that his own mind was overwhelmed. The stronger the thought, the greater the pain Nasir would endure for knowing of things that he should not. Crixus' words had been full of spite and it had been directed at him, increasing his pain and he knew he would have been incapable of reacting any differently.

Taking a deep breath to calm his mind and heart, Nasir looked up to meet green eyes. "Apologies," he managed to speak quietly, his throbbing head making it difficult to speak any louder. "Head spins from such exertions. Missing meals as I have inflicts more damage than anticipated." Agron did not look as though he believed Nasir's words, but he did not question him further. He returned his gladius to sheath and reached out to assist Nasir to stand. The Syrian glanced over to Crixus, seeing that the man was still watching him though he now appeared confused as to what he had witnessed.

Agron leaned over and picked up Nasir's dropped sword and handed it back to him again. "Take rest and food until we take our leave. I would yet have you raise sword against Roman shits this day as planned." Nasir nodded, the motion small in an attempt to keep the pain in his head from increasing again. It had subsided nearly enough that the Syrian could ignore it, the skill of dismissing pain one he had developed soon after becoming a slave.

Walking through the halls of the villa, Nasir returned to his bedroll and stretched out upon his back and covered his face with his arm to block out any light. The silence he was surrounded with allowed the throbbing within his head to fade.

It also provided him opportunity to consider what had finally allowed others' words to penetrate his mind once again. He had known such relief when he had awoken one day to the realization that no undesired voices were distracting him from the one that mattered to his survival. His gift had caused him suffering for so long that to be without had seemed to him a freedom – the only he believed he would ever experience.

Yet now that he was given true freedom, he was to be captured by his gift once more?

To hear words unspoken had never seemed as a gift to Nasir. Such a word had been used by his brother – one of the few things he remembered of the boy who shared his blood – when he had revealed such ability when he was too young to understand the value of secrecy. The talent had been a gift from the gods and so would be of great value to whomever Nasir chose to lay loyalty in.

Yet Nasir held no belief in gods after the life he had endured so his brother's claims had been dismissed.

Only now, Nasir had sworn true loyalty to Spartacus and his cause, a thing he had never done before. Even Tiberius had never placed honor in his Dominus, for the man's prominence to the Syrian lasted only as long as he held ownership.

Had his brother held greater understanding than Nasir believed? Had Nasir's choice to dedicate life to Spartacus' cause been the spark needed to ignite his gift once again? Was he to use such talents again, but for purpose greater than his own survival?

Agron's words to him from many days past came to mind, of the man's declaration that he held anticipation for meeting the man Nasir was as opposed to Tiberius. Such memory seemed to ease difficulty of decision so much that Nasir held brief concern if he was placing power in Agron's opinion that too closely reflected what he desired from his Dominus. He dismissed his concern just as swiftly with the realization that his decision was not made upon the words alone, but the message within them: Nasir would become his own man.

Nasir was a man gifted, and he would see brother's beliefs in such gifts honored.

The Syrian relaxed – the pain within head fading gradually until it had passed completely – until he heard movement within the villa that suggested the gladiators were preparing to take leave as planned. He stood, stretching his body out to loosen muscles. He took gladius he had been given in hand and walked from his secluded corner within the villa toward the courtyard where all were gathering.

As he walked into the small clearing, Chadara approached him and handed him a bundle of leather and cloth, which he slid his sword into and placed the sheath over his left shoulder so that it hung across his chest and over his right hip. The size was accurate and it fit him in a secure manner that would not come loose in movement. He was not surprised, for Chadara had dressed him often enough over the years – and he had done the same for her – that she knew how to fit cloth to his form.

"Gratitude," he spoke in low tones, as was the norm for him while among a crowd.

"Do not die out there, you foolish boy," she replied with a smile, but Nasir heard the sincerity in her voice. She did not agree with him taking up the sword and was even less supportive of him joining in this attack so soon after starting his training. He had made attempt to calm her anxiety by making point that he had not made request, but had been asked to join by Spartacus. Their leader would not have asked such of him if he did not believe Nasir prepared enough to not be struck down.

"You are familiar with the quality of guards for slave wagons. These are not Roman soldiers we move to attack, but men with barely more training than I." Chadara gave him a true smile at his words, then reached to him and grasped his hand briefly. She had always accepted his dislike of touch being placed upon him and so only used it when she felt words were not sufficient. He gave her a small smile in a final attempt at comfort before Spartacus called for the attention of all moving to attack the cart, giving final instruction before they took to path.

Nasir remained near Agron as they travelled the short distance to the path the cart travelled upon, the German being the only one among the gladiators he held any real trust with. Because the villa they had found to make camp within for the night was so near, it took barely any time for sounds of the cart and horses to reach the rebels. They all gathered together, watching the cart and guards approaching from a nearby rise in the path. It was in this time of observation that Nasir realized he recognized the man in charge of the transport. His first instinct – one which reflected Tiberius – was to ignore knowledge, but then his eyes turned to lie upon Crixus and he was reminded of the true intent behind attacking a wagon filled with slaves. His knowledge may hold value and he would see it put to use. He moved to where Spartacus kneeled nearby – body moving silently in the crouch he was positioned – and touched the man's arm briefly to gain his attention.

"Man atop the cart is slaver Ferox. He sees slaves to the mines from villas surrounding Capua and Neapolis," he whispered to the Thracian. Spartacus nodded his acceptance of the information and grasped Nasir's arm briefly in gratitude for sharing his knowledge. He turned to the other gladiators behind them and gave signal for them to move forward.

Nasir moved to follow but Spartacus reached out and grasped his arm again, this time to halt his movement. "Pause in joining attack until number of guards is cut down. When lead guard makes attempt to join fight, kill him." The Syrian nodded his acceptance of the instruction and watched as first blow against the cart was made and the gladiators laid waste to the Romans as slaves – most absent cloth for journey made to mines – emptied from the cart and ran from the dangers of the fight.

Nasir was already moving, seeing the lead guard turning at the sounds of battle and drawing sword to join fight. The former body slave moved quickly behind the man and knocked the blade from his hand before presence was noticed, then shifted the angle of his sword and thrust it up into the Roman's chest.

_Do not kill me!_ The words clashed through Nasir's mind as it was repeated many times from numerous sources throughout the battle. His head throbbed as the words did not cease, the pressure causing him to nearly lose control of his awareness. Pushing away the pain piercing his mind, he turned his attention to the continuing fight to determine where he was needed. Agron was the closest, engaged in killing a guard while another – the fucking slaver Ferox – was coming upon the German's back.

Nasir's legs were moving to take him to Agron's side before thought to do so could form. Just as the slaver's blade rose to strike Agron down, Nasir's blade pierced his back and he fell between the two men. Agron turned at the sound with weapon ready to strike, but relaxed immediately upon seeing the Syrian had come to his aid and a wide grin took place of the fury of battle.

"You favor clever strategy: fuck the man from behind," Agron spoke lightly. Nasir was uncertain of how he should respond, but found his lips lifting in a hesitant smile. His mind was slowly recovering from the assault of unspoken pleas for mercy and fear of death. As the pain passed, he became more aware of the truth he had now taken lives without hesitation. His eyes fell to the man he had struck down and he allowed his body relax and settled his weight upon his knee. Agron lowered his body to one knee as well but remained silent as Nasir considered what his life would now be full of: death and the dealing of it.

It was more difficult to accept than he had believed it would be.

"Spartacus tells a sword becomes lighter in time," his gaze sought Agron's and was relieved to see understanding reflected in the green eyes watching him. He had feared revelation of guilt in taking life would upset Agron.

"It is a heavy thing to rob a man of life." His eyes dropped to the slaver between them and his deep dislike of the man's kind came forward immediately. "Less so that of a Roman shit." He turned back to Nasir and his need to reassure the little man came forward and he moved to stand and step over the body. "Stay close by. I will help shoulder weight until…" His words were cut off by the slaver reaching up and grasping his leg.

Agron turned, ready to strike the final blow but was stopped at the slaver's words claiming knowledge of Naevia, having heard Spartacus and Crixus questioning freed slaves of her. At the news that Naevia had been taken to the mines mere days past by this man himself, Nasir felt a wave of relief to know hope yet remained for the reunion of hearts.

Once explanation was given, Agron thrust his gladius into the man's throat to ensure death. Nasir turned away, putting every effort to ignoring the final plea in his mind.

Nasir realized how far from grasp control of his abilities were as he stood with Agron and turned, only to be faced with the anger of the Undefeated Gaul.

Nervous at Crixus' reaction, Nasir inhaled deeply to steel nerve and spoke. "The slaver, he spoke of your woman." _Naevia!_ Crixus' mind exclaimed as he stepped closer to Nasir.

"What did he tell you?" Crixus asked and Nasir's eyes dropped as he struggled to speak of the woman's fate, hesitant to cause the man more pain. "Speak!" command was given and old instincts stirred in the Syrian and he prepared to follow order given.

"Naevia is dead," Agron's voice cut off his words and Nasir looked to the gladiator in his confusion at why Agron would lie to Crixus about what Ferox had told them. Nasir felt the urge to speak against Agron, but held back as Crixus' reaction to such news overcame him: the man's mind went as silent as the dead around them.

Naevia had been all that kept this man alive and for her to be gone from this world was the loss of Crixus' heart. And one could not live without their heart…

* * *

With the passing of the day and following morning, Nasir withdrew further from those around him. He had blatantly refused to speak to Mira when the woman attempted to converse with him again and his mind echoed with her confusion at the unexplained change in him. He only spoke to relay instructions of tasks needing completion to other freed slaves, yet even this was done in a cold manner.

Such direct instruction had given cause to another man freed from the same villa as Nasir had responded by calling him Tiberius. The Syrian's mind was so overwhelmed by thoughts of his struggle concerning Naevia's fate that he did not even realize mistake had been made.

However, Spartacus was nearby and he called out to the man who had spoken incorrectly, "He is Nasir. I would not again hear him called by slave name." The man cowered away from the harsh tone of Spartacus' words and nodded before leaving to complete task given. Spartacus turned to face the Syrian and approached him, the younger man having paused once he heard Spartacus speak his name though it had taken pause for him to realize what had caused the Thracian's irritation. Once Spartacus was near, Nasir looked up at him to see concerned eyes observing him. "Roman name was discarded. Why do you not defend such choice?"

Nasir understood why Spartacus was so angered by such an idea: the name all knew him by was one given by Rome and he was bound to it. The man had already revealed to Nasir how he felt pride that the Syrian had made choice to reclaim his true name while so many others refused to do so.

"I did not realize name called was not one reclaimed," Nasir answered with truth, his respect for Spartacus too great to even form thought of deceit or dismissal. He nearly felt regret when he saw concern within the man's expression increase at his answer. Uncertain of how to respond to such display of care, Nasir made decision to leave and his head lowered and hands clasped behind his back, the familiar posture aiding to calm the Syrian. "There are many tasks I must see to assigning if we are to be ready to depart for Vesuvius."

_He again retreats from us._ Nasir paused in turning away and looked back to Spartacus. The man waited for him to speak, not knowing that it was his own words which had given Nasir reason to face him again. The Syrian was about to break words that he was not retreating but distracted by other matters before thought occurred that to do so would reveal ability and he held his silence. He had kept his secret for so many years and within a few weeks he had nearly broken words of revelation. The notion caused further unrest in his mind and he turned again and walked away absent further words of farewell.

Such distraction was becoming troublesome and Nasir moved toward new purpose: seeking out Agron.

The German was found speaking with Donar of travel details, yet he dismissed the man quickly when he saw Nasir approach. Donar gave a nod of greeting to Nasir as they passed each other. _Continue to prove me wrong._ Nasir was able to suppress reaction to the sharp pain which accompanied the words and he was reminded yet again of the control he no longer possessed over hearing the unspoken.

Agron closed the distance between them, reaching out to grasp the Syrian's arm in greeting – a habit he had fallen into within days of Nasir joining rebellion and Nasir had not denied the contact as he would with any other making similar attempt. "Are preparations set to depart for Vesuvius?" he asked, his voice low while in such close proximity.

Nasir was suddenly grateful for all the conversations they had shared, for there was no hesitation in putting voice to his concern. "Is Vesuvius the correct path to take?" Spartacus' thought that he was returning to shield of Tiberius had disturbed the Syrian deeply and he would settle mind so as to not prove the rebel leader correct.

Agron's hand dropped from Nasir's arm and his posture seemed to falter as he realized how this exchange of words would progress. He had believed the subject to be resolved with words broken earlier, yet it seemed that the Syrian required more assurance that they were acting for the benefit of many within the rebellion.

"All within rebellion must be protected and Vesuvius provides such. Risk of pursuing Naevia, who may lay dead within the mines, far outweighs benefit of finding her alive." Agron's words – as the ones he had spoken earlier – held much sense yet Nasir still could not accept choice. The pain in Crixus' mind and heart could not be part of a correct path. The Gaul's decision to move on to Vesuvius, while indicative of acceptance of Naevia's fate, did not remove the emptiness within that should not be present in a man of such honor.

"There is none you would pursue into the mines on mere thought they may yet draw breath?" The question was unexpected and gave Agron reason to pause. Nasir held no desire to cause his friend pain, yet he had to know if the German had ever had one in his life who he would give life to protect. That is what Naevia is to Crixus.

Agron sighed deeply and lifted his hand again, this time to touch Nasir's cheek as he had earlier that day when caring words had first been broken. "I would see those holding importance to me never suffer such a fate."

"Choice is not always within grasp and should not be denied Crixus."

Fingers embracing his cheek tensed at mention of the Gaul. "You would see us all dead for the fucking Gaul's pain? This is how you wish to embrace freedom: by giving up life at first opportunity?" Nasir's hand lifted from his side to cover Agron's larger one, only to take hold and pull the hand from contact with his face. It was the first time he had refused Agron's touch and green eyes looked down to him in confusion and shock.

"I would have life lived be one absent regret."

Though resolution had not been found, Nasir turned to walk away as he had given voice to thoughts that mattered. There were many tasks that yet needed completion for journey to Vesuvius which Nasir could turn focus to and he would do so. He set focus upon gathering supplies, packing them for travel. He worked without disturbance for the remainder of the morning until Chadara crossed path with him while he packed supplies into trunk.

"You intend to spirit away the entire villa in that trunk," her careless tone brought him comfort in its familiarity. He looked up to her and was further calmed by the unwavering spirit within the woman he had known for so many years.

Nasir looked to his friend briefly before returning his attention to task. "We do not know what Vesuvius holds, Chadara. Agron would have us well supplied."

The woman gave a smile of satisfaction that Nasir was displeased to see: she was too familiar with him. She was familiar with the tone of tolerance he had used – one familiar to any receiving orders from the body slave while serving their Dominus – and recognized how nervous he was of revealing a thing he did not desire to her. He noticed the expression and anticipated advice given he held no desire to hear. Chadara possessed such skill to understand his actions and took great joy in using such knowledge to her advantage at every opportunity. It was not malice toward him that guided her actions, but a desire to aid him in maintaining clear mind. For she was a survivor as much as he was and his clarity of mind had meant their Dominus was well tended.

"Ah yes, Agron," her tone held as much satisfaction as her expression and Nasir realized that he had brought her immediately to topic she wished to discuss with him. His mind was a fucking mess to have fallen directly into topic of Chadara's desire so quickly. "He is of a form, is he not?"

Mind betrayed Nasir as his face filled with heat at memories of touch Agron was fond of bestowing upon him. "I suppose," he managed to speak in the same distant manner, only accomplishing such from years of controlling voice and body. Though he was aware he only managed such control because of his current dilemma with the man.

Chadara, however, had not been fooled by his blank mask for many years. "Oh, you suppose," she replied in jest. He continued in task of storing supplies for transport, making attempt to ignore subject he had no desire of pursuing further. "Do not think I have not noticed your eyes upon him, nor the way of late you have been huddled together in intimate conversation."

Frustration grew in Nasir at Chadara's refusal to dismiss the discussion as he desired. While her words held truth in that the two conversed often in privacy, nothing further occurred between them. Nasir intended for it to remain so, unwilling to risk friendship because of foolish desires he had yet to understand rising within him. "You mistake subject of discussion." He cursed his voice for lacking confidence in his defense.

"Yet not the blush upon cheek when he is near." Nasir let out a sound of derision, intent on not allowing her words to sway his resolve. Though her words were of a forward nature as was customary for her, her tone held a serious quality he was unaccustomed to. She continued in such a serious manner, though her next words carried more weight. "You would do yourself well to pursue desire." The woman rarely spoke in a manner that relayed how deeply she cared about him so he found himself taking in such words carefully. Seeming to realize her words had carried desired attention, her tone again lightened as she continued. "I would myself if I believed he favored me."

An unfamiliar feeling rose in Nasir at the thought of Agron's attentions being directed toward Chadara and his eyes burned with fury before control was regained.

It was only once he recovered his composure that he realized what his friend was making an attempt to reveal to him: Agron could hold affection toward him as well. Dismissing the thought, Nasir once again made attempt at distraction. "I thought you were taken with Rhaskos."

"Rhaskos is a base animal, yet one with sharp claws, offering protection and position." Nasir rose and turned a sharp gaze upon Chadara. He held little value in gaining position among the rebels, only holding desire to stand among those of similar purpose. He allowed his friend to pursue such but made request of not suggesting he act in the same manner. His gaze reminded her of such and she swiftly decided to alter her manner of approach. "Spartacus holds Agron in much high esteem. I envy you his attention." She gave him one final soft smile and walked away, leaving him to consider her observation.

Nasir had always held strong eyes of observation of others and could understand feelings of others even without ability to hear the echo of words within mind. It was a thing all proficient slaves excelled at and he held great skill as a slave. Yet despite this, he could not claim with certainty if Chadara's words held truth. When he had first felt the touch of attraction toward the German, he had believed such strong emotions to be response of being extended caring hand for the first time in his life and had dismissed them.

Desire served no purpose other than to distract from difficult times and he would not fall prey to it. Harsh life of service taught the Syrian that much and lesson would not be ignored simply because freedom had been gained.

Though it seemed as if Chadara's words had resonated within him as he realized his lips had lifted in a small smile at the thought of Agron holding affections toward him as well. He shook his head to remove expression from face and thoughts from mind and moved to finish task.

Moving the trunk once full was a task of great difficulty for the Syrian. Despite being accustomed to the physical labors of a slave, his small stature presented limitation in lifting greater weights he could not overcome. Every step was paired with a hiss of exertion as he pulled the trunk behind him. So focused on task, he was caught by surprise when he felt the other end lifted and burden was shared. Having not expected any aid – why should such a thing be expected when it had never before been offered – he turned, his mind finding further upheaval at laying eyes upon Crixus. He had held hope the man would continue to ignore him but for distant scrutiny accompanied by silent curses. Unable to bear looking at the man when he had caused him such pain, his eyes lowered immediately and he turned to continue his task desiring for the silence to continue.

"I was not in favor of your training," Crixus spoke, bringing a curse to Nasir's mind. "Do you know the reason?"

Keeping his voice as even he could manage as his heart raced along with his mind. There was a long enough pause to indicate Crixus was waiting for him to give answer: he had yet to become proficient at knowing with certainty when speaking was desired. "I made attempt on Spartacus." He was certain that reason included more by the unspoken words of disgust, yet he could not give such answer.

There was amusement in the Gaul's tone as he replied. "As have I, on more than one occasion. I did not trust you because you are Syrian." Memory of Agron telling him of the Syrian known to them in the ludus came to Nasir and he found himself curious as to actions the man of his land had taken to be so despised.

Yet Nasir had now done a similar thing in allowing Crixus to feel the pain of loss. How was he different? How could he think himself to be better?

"I have had unfortunate acquaintance with one of your people, as did my woman, Naevia." Nasir was unable to keep his eyes from Crixus any longer as the man spoke the name of his woman with such tenderness, turning to again face the man and lowering his physical burden. It was a thing the former body slave could not understand, this manner of living for another because of a desire to do so. This was not a thing the survivor he was could comprehend.

His thoughts did not keep him from recognition of the accusation in the Gaul's words – though not directed at him – and he felt the urge to offer regret for the man's suffering. "Apologies." He was honest in speaking such, yet he could not say with certainty what he had been truly given apology for.

"He caused her much pain." The Gaul's mind screamed in anger and grief at memories of such pain and Nasir's own breath caught briefly as he was assaulted by such strong words, his mind once again splitting in pain at hearing such. Yet he would not allow pain to keep him from knowing what the man desired to say to him. "Yet despite this, she would not have held you for his actions. Such was her heart. One I shall try to honor, in thought and deed."

Branded arm was extended to Nasir in an offer of peace.

The Syrian's breath again caught in chest, the action becoming difficult with the force of his emotions. His mind yet echoed with a myriad of unspoken words from Crixus, giving him even deeper knowledge of how difficult it was for this man to look beyond his hatred of the other Syrian to accept Nasir as trusted ally. Such understanding caused even greater ache in his heart for knowledge yet secreted from the man. If he allowed Naevia's fate to be decided by Rome, how was Nasir any different from Tiberius?

As body slave, he had made attempt to keep punishment from those serving his master – a man quick to make choice based upon fleeting mood – and had greatly succeeded in such. Knowing the man's mind and desires had allowed the Syrian to know what words would balm fury and prevent harm being inflicted. Yet he had known failure in this though had accepted such as yet another unfortunate part of life under Rome's rule. As result, unconcern toward others had grown in him. Now that he stood as one to inflict suffering, such defense against difficult situation failed him and he could not even put name to emotions rising within him.

Spartacus' unspoken words of how he again retreated from those of rebellion held truth. He had allowed Tiberius' habits to convince him that his own feelings did not matter as long as he did not defy command. While order had never been voiced, Agron had been clear that Crixus was not to know of Naevia's location.

Which brought question of why Nasir had followed lead, despite his disagreement to do so? Had he not cast aside servitude of Tiberius for life released from orders of another? Would he yet answer the whims of others?

The pain of Nasir's heart told him choice was made and he had been wrong in acting as he had. While he had done so, in part, to protect fragile bond between him and Agron it did not make choice right. He would correct such vile action and live free as he desired.

Crixus would not forgive him his lie, yet regret lay not in truth.

"There is something I must tell you."

* * *

A/N: Part two will be coming soon. Please review as they are awesome beyond belief to receive. Thank you for the reviewers of last chapter as well as those who are following the story.  
See ya soon!  
Kira Dattei


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